EXHAUSTED

Jeanne let out a surprised yet lively giggle once a bucket of cold water was dumped over her head and down her exposed skin that was covered in muck, dirt, and grime. All of which from merely having to swim in under Bard's house and come up through the...outhouse, to get in unnoticed. Those were not fun times and Jeanne would rather not do it again, but it can't be helped since the Master strongly disliked Bard for some reason. It was like he had agents all over the town and were constantly spying on him, though Bard, of course, knew that already and walked it off without even a bit of trouble.

She was just happy to get out of Murkwood and away from the suffocating atmosphere that diseased her mind with more worry and anxiety than she was used too. Jeanne feared she would have gone crazy if she stayed inside those cursed woods any longer. Even so, luck was on her side since she didn't have to run into Thranduil, that frightening Elven King. That Elf always made her uncomfortable and would, if given the chance, would chop off her head if met with the opportunity, especially after what she did to him all those years ago. Jeanne was still upset over that and greatly regretted doing that to him. It was completely out of her control though.

The eldest of Bards daughters, Sigrid apologized when she splashed the cold water over the lady's red hair. "Sorry. We would have warmed it up if we knew we were having guests."

Jeanne used her hand to sweep her scarlet hair from her eyes. "Oh, don't worry about it. I quite like the cold. It cools me down." She gave the young woman a gentle smile but noticed the youngest daughter, Tilda's curious eyes on her. Well, rather her hair. Jeanne blinked and was slightly confused. "Is something wrong?"

"Your hair," she spoke and gave a tilt of her head. "I've never seen such lovely colored hair before." A laugh escaped her lips and a smile crept up.

That made Jeanne stiffen in the bathtub. She generally didn't know how to respond to such a comment, but thinking about it now though...never in her long years did she ever recall someone calling her hair 'lovely' before. It made her heart flutter a bit with ease. "Thank...thank you." she managed to whisper out and just continued to sit meekly in the tub, legs curled up to the cold skin of her exposed chest. She stood perfectly still as the cold water continued to fall over her eyes.

Tilda spoke with such a voice that made Jeanne realize that she was quite innocent, not knowing the world in its entirety and how cruel it could be. She actually found comfort in the fact that she wasn't all that knowledgeable. Sigrid, on the other hand, was quite odd. The young woman looked at her, already knowing of the Bad Omens and yet didn't believe in them at all. She actually treated Jeanne like a human being and with a great deal of respect too, in which the scarlet lady was not used too.


The Dwarves huddled around the house and were given new clothes, though they didn't fit, it was keeping them warm, thankfully.

Thorin would occasionally glance over to the bathroom door and counted the minutes Jeanne was gone. He was worried for her since he didn't know how this family would react to her red hair, or if they would do anything to harm her. Thankfully though, the door opened and he saw her walk out with the two sisters.

Jeanne was given one of Sigrid's dress, a light yet worn-out blue shade that was one size off. It wasn't uncomfortable though, thankfully. Jeanne really was just happy to get out of those clothes she was wearing and put on something clean and dry. Tilda had her fun too with her hair and had it braided up in an elegant bun, only having a few loose strands handing out. The last thing she had on was a long coat that had a large hood. It belonged to Bain, but the kind young man gave it to her to hide her hair.

Thorin sighed with relief. "Are you alright now?" He asked, concerned since she was pale green up to two hours ago. He just wanted to make sure and ease his own worry. Jeanne looked considerably better, if not but a bit pale, he noticed

The lady looked up and met Thorin's intense and worries gaze. Immediately, she felt her face flare up for some reason. "Thank...uh, thank you for your concern." She tore her face away and quickly sat next to Bilbo who was wrapped up in a blanket.

Bilbo took a look at Jeanne and noticed how red her face became. He cocked a brow and looked between her and Thorin, frowning as this very particular thought crossed his mind that absolutely sealed his mouth shut. This was one time he didn't dare speak his mind since it wasn't his place to speak it.

Tearing his gaze away from Jeanne, Thorin glanced out the window and caught something that made his heart stop dead in its tracks. He saw on top of a town was a cross-bow weapon of some kind. A windlass but different.

"A Dwarvish Wind-Lance." He breathed, his eyes looking haunted by the sight.

"You look like you've just seen a ghost," Bilbo commented and took his cup of hot tea to drink.

"He has." Balin suddenly spoke up and walked up to the window. He had a gloom look on his face and his voice was drained from the memories that, to this day, still burned him. "The last time we such a weapon, a city was on fire. It was the day the dragon came. The day the Smaug destroyed Dale. Girion, the Lord of the city, rallied his bowman to fire upon the beast. But the dragon's hide is tough, tougher than the strongest armor. Only a black arrow, fired from a wind-lance, would have pierced the dragon's hide, and few of those arrows were ever made. His store was running low when Girion made his last stand." Balin's words fell short with the end of the tale, already knowing his it ended...seeing how the dragon still lives.

"Had the aim of Men been true that day, much would have been different," Thorin spoke bitterly.

Jeanne perked up to the story and slowly turned her head towrds them. She caught a glimpse of Thorin's eyes briefly on her like he was searching for a sense of comfort from the grim tale that still haunted him. Her lips curled up if only a little and relief finally crossed Thorin's eyes. Seeing his face relax brought a great deal of ease to Jeanne's tensing heart.

Bard cocked a brow. "You speak as if you were there," he said.

"All Dwarves know the Tale," Thorin spoke coldly, snapping his attention away.

Suddenly Bain began to speak up. "Then you would know that Girion hit the dragon. He loosened a scale under the left-wing. One more shot and he would have killed the beast."

This was news for Jeanne and she generally looked taken back, probably a little hopeful as well if Dwalin hadn't shut down the theory.

"That's a fairy story. Nothing more," he spoke.

Thorin then began to stride up to Bard, entending on getting what he paid for. "You took our money. Where are the weapons."

He wouldn't dare sick his party upon the beast without any weapons, even with Jeanne there with them. Thorin can tell by looking at the woman that she was physically getting tired and weaker by the day. He figured it might be the stress of everything happening around her and the newfound information of Bad Omens. Along with the burden of having to slay a dragon, It was beginning to take a toll on Jeanne. It was starting to show on her face. Actually, he was hoping that she would take the chance and rest up.

"Wait here," Bard said and swiftly left the house, hopefully, to retrieve their weapons.

The Dwarves took the change to huddle together around the table where Jeanne was sat down on.

"Tomorrow begins the last day of autumn," Thorin reminded everyone about their short window.

"Durin's Day falls morn after next. We must reach the mountain before then." Balin said.

Thorin looked over to Jeanne and saw her grow pale with worry. "We'll make it." hesitating for a moment, he stretched his arm out to her shoulder. "We will," he said firmly and looked her dead in the eyes.

A minute later, Bard finally returned with a large bundled tarp of some kind. He placed it on the table and wrapped it, only to be met with disappointment and disgust. They were nothing but hand-made weapons that had worn out, rusted hooks and hammers with rotten handles. These were not weapons. This was not what they were promised.

Jeanne sighed deeply and dropped her head down into her hand, raking her fingers through her already messy hair. "This won't do..." she muttered in a low and raspy voice.

"We paid you for weapons. Iron-forged sword and axes!" Gloin protested.

Bard narrowed his eyes. "You won't find better outside the city armory. All iron-forged weapons are held there under lock and key." He explained.

At that moment Thorin and Dwalin shot each other a look at the corner of their eyes.

Jeanne's lips began to quiver. "I don't feel so good."

Thorin took a glance down at Jeanne and felt his heart suddenly freeze up. He saw her skin growing paler as the seconds ticked away. He was beginning to dread that Jeanne may actually be ill. Her voice was worn and raspy and her skin was a grayish pale. She really just looked worked.

"Thorin," Balin called out, catching Bard's attention with the mention of that name. "Why not take what's been offered and go? I've made do with less; so have you. I say we leave now."

"You're not going anywhere." Bard suddenly cut in.

Jeanne flinched. "Excuse me?"

"There's spies watching this house and probably every dock and wharf in the town. You must wait till nightfall."

Thorin didn't make it known in any way across his hardened face, but he felt a bit of relief that they weren't going to leave until nightfall. Aside from Kili's injuries, he was growing more and more worried about Jeanne's exhausted state. Maybe this way she can get a bit of rest in the meantime.

Bard turned and headed out the door and stopped once he was outside, mumbling "Thorin" under his breath. He swore he heard that name before and it gave him shivers at the sheer mention of it. It was like something itching in the back of his mind.

"Da?" Bain called out to his father.

"Don't let them leave," Bard said and hurried down the steps and rushed through the town like he was on a mission.